


At least the thugs stay silent

by lynne_monstr



Category: Leverage
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Rescues, slight implied Parker/Hardison/Eliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-10
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2018-02-12 15:29:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2115108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynne_monstr/pseuds/lynne_monstr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were a mile and a half from the auxiliary maintenance station at Bellington Dam, and Quinn was itching to hit something.</p><p>Written for comment_fic for the prompt Quinn/Chaos, shut up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At least the thugs stay silent

They were a mile and a half from the auxiliary maintenance station at Bellington Dam, and Quinn was itching to hit something. Specifically, Chaos’ face. Or maybe his throat. Anything that would put an end to the stream of whining and insults that hadn’t let up since they both hauled themselves out of the icy water a mile and a half back. Complaints about being cold. Inane comments about everything from Quinn’s hair to his intelligence. Quinn wasn't a patient man by nature and he was quickly reaching the end of his limits.  
  
Trudging through the mess of overgrown back roads, he vowed that the next time he was wearing handcuffs and surrounded by armed, inept Ukrainians, he’d tell Eliot exactly where he could shove his job offer. Given the choice between armed thugs and egotistical geeks, Quinn would take the thugs any day. At least they stayed silent.  
  
As if on cue, Chaos piped up beside him. “Do you always say _pow_ when you hit people?”  
  
“Ask me again. See what happens,” Quinn replied, hands balling into fists at his side. Idly, he debated who he wanted to hurt more: Chaos, for being the world’s most irritating idiot. Or Eliot, for bringing him into this circus show.    
  
Either uncaring or unaware of how precarious his situation was, Chaos droned on. “I bet you do! You probably say _bam_ and _kaboom_ too, am I right. You’re like a blond batman.”  
  
Screw avoiding Dubenich’s security team, they needed to get back to civilization before _he_ killed Chaos.  
  
“You don’t need your mouth to type,” Quinn warned.  
  
Chaos raised both hands in front of him in what Quinn hoped was a gesture of surrender. A moment later he was sadly proven wrong.  
  
“It’s okay, dude.” Chaos winked, his entire face contorting in the process. “Your secret’s safe with me.”  
  
Quinn had seen the way Chaos could tear through computer systems like they weren’t even there, so there were obviously some serious brains in that head of his. But for a smart guy, Chaos was sure dumb as shit. Did he not realize Quinn literally killed people for a living? Had killed people for much less than what he was enduring right now.  
  
A drop of water dripped from his hairline into his eye and he bit back a curse. He was wet, he was cold, and his khakis were clinging to him in ways khakis weren’t meant to cling. He consoled himself with the thought that the moment this job was over, he was gone. Didn’t matter where. Anywhere that wasn’t in range of condescending geek talk was good by him. Though he had a sinking suspicion that Chaos’ grating voice would dog his steps no matter how far he ran.  
  
“Did you know that you also do this thing where—”  
  
The last of Quinn’s control snapped.  
  
In the blink of an eye he spun and shoved his palm against Chaos’ sodden chest. The move sent him stumbling back and Quinn followed, fisting a hand in the collar of Chaos’ plaid shirt and reeling him in. “Would you. _Shut. Up._ Already!”  
  
Chaos’ eyes, normally squinty and mocking, grew comically wide. Just as quickly, he shook it off, features rearranging themselves into wry amusement. Quinn was almost impressed.  
  
This close together, it was easy to see the barest twitch of lips under all that overgrown facial hair. Before Chaos could speak, Quinn beat him to it. “If you say make me, I’m going to take your belt and gag you with it. Do you understand?”  
  
Chaos nodded.  
  
They made their way back to the rest of Eliot’s team in glorious silence.  


* * *

  
The next time Quinn found himself in handcuffs and surrounded by thugs, he couldn’t help but think back to that day at the dam.  
  
It was about six months after the job with Eliot and his strange team, a routine delivery that ended up being an ambush. Turned out his client was secretly working for a Chilean arms dealer that Quinn had been hired to steal from a month back. The merchandise was long gone, which meant only one thing. This wasn’t about payment. It was revenge.  
  
Quinn cursed himself for not making the connection earlier. If he got out of this, he’d see about getting a tech guy. It would be worth the irritation. Even a half decent hacker could’ve dug up the information in a heartbeat. Instead, Quinn had gone in blind and was now paying the price. Had been for at least the past half day, by his estimates.  
  
The door to his cell clicked opened. Two of the largest men Quinn had ever seen filled the doorway, led by a familiar rat-faced man.  
  
Quinn pushed himself to his feet. Flashed a smile that promised retribution. “Going after personal grudges, Santiago? Not very professional of you.”  
   
Behind the three was another half dozen men. Even cuffed and bruised, the goons gave Quinn a wide berth as they filed into the room, none of them daring to come within striking range.  They parted in the middle to let their boss through.    
  
Santiago looked, if possible, even slimier than the last time Quinn had seen him. He grinned, showing a faceful of ugly gold teeth. “Nobody steals from me and lives.”  
  
Quinn would have laughed, but at that exact moment a fist from one of the brick shithouses flanking him smashed hard across his cheek. His vision darkened and he staggered, managing to catch himself before he could fall.  
  
Pulling the dregs of his concentration together, Quinn focused on getting the hell out of here. He could take the pair of men closest to him, even with the cuffs on. The problem – the same one plaguing him since the beginning – was the other half dozen hanging around, jeering and laughing but never dispersing enough to make an escape possible.  
  
Time was slipping away, and he was under no illusions how long his strength would hold after this next round of interrogation. Quinn was debating just making a move and taking as many of them down with him as possible when all the overhead lights suddenly went out. The room was plunged into blackness.  
  
He couldn’t have asked for a more perfect opening.  
  
Quinn lunged to the side, rolling away and twisting his body to work his hands over his legs and out in front of him. The bruises around his kidneys screamed in protest but he barely noticed. Coming out of the roll, he sprung lightly to his feet, lashing out with elbows and feet. The first couple hired guns went down as easily as predicted and in the confusion he managed to slip past the rest and open the heavy metal door to the outside.  
  
Miraculously, it was unlocked and gave easily under his hand.  
  
The stab of sunlight tore through his head like a red-hot knife, and he winced. Stumbling blindly, he cursed the distraction before getting his feet under him and breaking into a sprint. Shouts and footsteps followed not far behind. Not sparing a glance at the pursuit, Quinn raced down along the side of the building, careful to leave no trace as he doubled back to the hidden gravel access road where he’d stashed a spare motorcycle for this type of contingency. The problem with good things, he realized too late, was that they didn’t last.  
  
When he finally got within view of the bike, there was someone else already on it.  
  
Quinn’s eyes darted quickly around. Whoever this was, they appeared to be alone. Which was either a very good sign or a very bad one. Quinn spared a moment of regret for not making time to take a gun off one of the thugs earlier.  
  
He studied the rider intently, assessing the new threat.  
  
The person was about average height, face obscured by a large black helmet and holding a small tablet computer. For a crazy moment he thought it was Eliot, repeating history to offer him another job. The build was all wrong, though. And the stance had none of the leashed aggression he associated with the other hitter. Then the rider flipped up the visor and Quinn let out a groan that had nothing to do with his injuries.  
  
Of all the people he expected or wanted to see, this was last on both lists. On the other hand, the convenient death of the lights suddenly made a lot more sense.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Quinn demanded. Throwing off his previous caution as unnecessary, he stalked towards the motorcycle and its rider.  
  
Chaos tucked the computer away with a flourish. “Same thing as you. My job…well, actually I’m doing this one for free. These losers are douchebags of the first degree. I’ve been wanting to trash their system for months now.” He paused. “Or do you mean, why did I take time out of my busy day when I could just as easily have crippled their servers from the comfort of my California king bed? In that case, it’s because I needed physical access to—”  
  
“That’s nice,” Quinn cut him off. “I mean, what are you doing _here_.” The metal at his wrists rattled as he gestured towards the bike with both hands.  
  
“I found the video feeds. Saw you pacing in a cell like some kind of ponytailed tiger at the zoo. Did you actually have an exit this time, or was getting captured and beat up part of the plan? You kind of suck at this.”  
  
Quinn was going to kill him if he didn’t shut up. “I had a plan.” Or he would have, given enough time.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. And Agent Scully’s going to be waiting for me in my bedroom when I get home. Nice black eye, by the way.  They punch you in the face or something?”  
  
The fight in the warehouse flashed in his memory. The butt of a gun slamming into the side of his face and the resulting scream when Quinn grabbed the wrist holding it and twisted.  
  
He pressed his lips together in a tight smile. “Or something."  
  
It was only a matter of time before the men with guns figured out where he was and Quinn didn’t want to be there when it happened. "That’s enough talking. Move so I can drive this thing.”  
  
“How? With your feet?” The squinty eyed smirk Chaos gave him was all too familiar. “Lucky for you I’m the Han Solo to your Leia. Be nice or I’ll leave you here.”  
  
Well, that confirmed that theory. “It was you that killed the lights.” It wasn’t a question, and he looked at Chaos with new respect.  
  
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”  
  
Quinn considered his options. He could easily knock Chaos out and take off, but screwing over the guy that just gave him an exit didn’t sit right. Not to mention that picking the cuffs would take time he might not have to spare, and operating the motorcycle in his current state would be…difficult.  
  
With a decisive nod, he swung his leg over the bike behind Chaos. “Fine. But let’s get one thing clear. I’m not Princess Leia.”  
  
“Your hair’s long enough to braid. That definitely makes you the Leia in this situation.”  
  
Letting out a long breath, Quinn shook his head. And immediately regretted it as a renewed wave of nausea washed through him. Concussion, mostly likely. He’d deal with it later. “I hate you.”  
  
Chaos turned to face him, unexpectedly serious. Just when it was getting creepy, his lips curled in a bright smirk. “I know.” Then he turned back around, leaving Quinn feeling like he’d somehow missed half the conversation.  
  
“One more word and I throw you off this bike.” The assertion was familiar and put Quinn back on solid footing. A brief hesitation and he grabbed the back of Chaos’ t-shirt in both hands. For stability. Not because the swaying in his head had taken a sudden turn for the worse.  
  
“Is that any way to treat your rescuer,” Chaos whined, but there was something light in his voice, like he didn’t quite mind. Then there was the click of the visor snapping shut.  
  
Quinn’s lips twitched in what might have been a smile. “I had it covered. Now shut up and drive.”    
  
Thankfully, the engine roared to life and if Chaos said anything in return it was lost to the noise.  


* * *

  
“Paper only for this job. Nothing electronic. Do you understand?”  
  
Normally this wasn’t the type of contract Quinn would take. He preferred acquiring objects over people. Less messy that way and less room for things to go wrong. But the money for this job was good and whoever was bankrolling it was looking for the best. Pulling this off would seal both his bank account and his reputation for years.  
  
Quinn took the dossier and opened it.  
  
It took all his training and professionalism not to react. Staring up at him above the lines of tiny print was a picture of Chaos. It was a grainy black and white, but unmistakably him. Quinn wondered what Chaos had done to warrant the price currently on his head, but quickly dismissed it as irrelevant. Those type of questions had no place in a meet like this.  
  
“Do we have an agreement?”  
  
The words snapped Quinn back to the present. He glanced up at the broker, an anonymous middleman with a Bulgarian accent that was as fake as his flashy watch.  
  
“I’ll take care of it,” Quinn said.  
  
Once the standard negotiations were done with, he gathered up the file and walked out of the empty office building.  
  
This job could go two ways and to his surprise the decision wasn't a difficult one.  
  
When he got back to his current safe house, he immediately made copies of the file, along with logging his own personal notes about the job. The originals went directly to a locked safe. Scrawling out a quick message, he stuffed the copies into a nondescript manila envelope and sent them to an address that had cost him a significant favor to acquire.  
  
The package was delivered with a note that read simply, “We’re even.”  
  
Later on, had anyone associated with the job been in a position to ask, they might have enquired to Quinn how their target knew enough of the planned abduction to seek out the responsible parties and wreak utter chaos on both their computer systems and personal identity.  


* * *

  
Half a year later and half a world away, Hardison looked up from a bank of monitors with a sly smile. “Chaos, you dog, you.”  
  
“What is it!” A very enthusiastic Parker descended from the ceiling and into his lap, and Hardison nearly jumped out of his seat and dislodged them both.  
  
“Girl, what did I tell you about surprising me when I’m working?”  
  
“That you love it.”  
  
He laughed and gave her a quick peck on the lips. “Yeah, I do. Anyway, I was going through the security feed from that attack on Berdelli Securities last week. The intrusion looked familiar, and damn I am good because look what I pulled up from the video feed.” Leaning back in his chair, he laced his hands behind his head at nodded at the screen. “Looks like Chaos got himself a partner.” He glanced over to where Eliot stood lurking in a shadowed corner. “And you’ll never believe who,” he added.  
  
Eliot crossed the room to stare at the image that had caught Hardison’s attention. “Well I’ll be damned.”  
  
Parker smacked his hip lightly. “I think they’re adorable.”  
  
There was no further comment from Eliot, and Hardison looked over his shoulder to see him staring intently at the picture, a searching expression on his face that meant he was seeing more than what was right in front of them.  
  
Eliot stirred from whatever funk he was in. “So Quinn found himself a hacker. Good on him.”  
  
Hardison frowned, thinking. People were so much more complicated than code. “You ain’t talking about Quinn now, are you? Why you gotta be so damn cryptic?”  
  
The smile Eliot gave him went all the way to his eyes. “Shut up.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you watch the scene at the dam, it really does look like Quinn says pow when he knocks out that last guy. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!


End file.
